The Best Laid Plans of Heroes and Dark Lords
by Hecticity
Summary: The Very Evil Dark Lord and his henchman Lucius Malfoy have a Plan to defeat Harry Potter, and Draco and Harry have a Cunning Plan to Defeat the Dark Lord. Of course, nothing actually goes as Planned...
1. PART I

Author's note: I could not have written this story without the wonderful Rebecca (friartuxshop), my good friend, co-author, beta, illustrator, and her muse Gustov for smacking my Rabbit of Caerbannogh whenever he needed it. I would also like to thank slashygoodness for the wonderful beta job and input (especially when I was having trouble with the last few chapters!).

WARNINGS: Flarnkst (fluff/crack/angst), crossdressing, overuse of Cracked Out Capital Letters, drunkenness, misuse of ordinary household objects

-------------------------------

Voldemort was upset. He returned to his Very Secret Hiding Place in a Very Foul Mood, and had a Huge Temper Tantrum. When normal people have temper tantrums, they throw inanimate objects. But Voldemort was not a Normal Person, he was a Very Evil Dark Lord. And he did not have temper tantrums, he had Temper Tantrums. And Temper Tantrums cannot be satisfied by throwing inanimate objects. No, when the Very Evil Dark Lord had a Temper Tantrum, he liked to throw Death Eaters.

Thus, when he slammed the door of his Very Secret Hiding Place open, the Death Eaters ran for their lives. Literally. For Voldemort, the Very Evil Dark Lord, did not just Throw Death Eaters. He Battered Them to Within an Inch of Their Lives.

"HARRY POTTER HAS GOTTEN AWAY _AGAIN_!" He roared, and flung the slowest Death Eater against the nearest wall.

-----------------

Back at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had just woken up in the hospital wing when his scar started to burn.

"Oh, no," he groaned. "Voldemort's mad at me _again_. How many times do I have to face him and get away before we finally fulfill that damn prophecy?"

He immediately got out of bed. He knew what he needed. And what he needed was a Cunning Plan to Defeat the Dark Lord. So he did what he always did when he needed a Cunning Plan, and went to talk to Hermione Who Knows Everything.

"Oh, Great Hermione Who Knows Everything," he said, bowing before her. She sat proudly atop her throne that was made to look like Zeus's on Mount Olympus, as she considered herself the reincarnation of Athena on Earth.

"YES, MORTAL?" she boomed. Harry tapped his ear, having gone temporarily deaf. "WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE TO WORSHIP AT MY ALTAR?"

"Um…I need a Cunning Plan."

Hermione Who Knows Everything sighed. "Harry James Potter, you always ask me for Cunning Plans. And you always, _without fail_, mess them up and end up getting away with it anyway because of your Idiotic Gryffindor Bravery and Unfailing Good Luck! Why should I keep giving you ideas for Cunning Plans when you never use them? I should bestow my knowledge upon someone more worthy!"

"But I'm the Boy Who Lived! I've got to defeat Voldemort! And besides, you're my best friend. Aren't you? I promise this is the _last _time I'll ask you for a Cunning Plan."

She glowered. "That's what you said last time, and, now that I think about it, the time before that too. When are you ever going to stop asking me for Cunning Plans?"

Harry looked at his feet, and mumbled, "Um…when I defeat him?"

"That's not good enough for me, Mortal." She sighed, and looked at him. He _was _her best friend, after all…

"Fine. Just let me think for a while. Come back tomorrow."

----------------------

Lucius Malfoy was cowering in a corner. He didn't really want to face Voldemort when he was in the middle of one of his Temper Tantrums, especially because the last time he'd had a rather unfortunate encounter with the wall. But he had a Plan, one that he was sure would make him the Dark Lord's right hand man.

"My Lord!" he called out, hoping to say what he wanted before Voldemort got within flinging range.

"RAAAAWWWWWRRR!" was the only answer from down the hall.

"My Lord," he tried again, "I have a Plan!"

"A PLAN?" Voldemort roared, as his latest victim hit the floor with a crunch.

"Yes! A Plan! It is infallible, My Lord! You will defeat Harry Potter once and for all!"

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. "Okay," he said grumpily. "You can have exactly _five_ minutes of my time before I FLING YOU!"

Lucius swallowed. "Well, My Lord, it goes like this…"

"WHAT?" Harry cried. Hermione Who Knows Everything had just disclosed her latest Cunning Plan. "You want me to do _what?_" he said again, but quieter this time.

"Yes," Hermione Who Knows Everything smirked. "I want you to use your Idiotic Gryffindor Bravery and Unfailing Good Luck. That is your Cunning Plan."

"But that's what I always use when my Cunning Plans fail!"

"Well, then _this_ Cunning Plan should work, shouldn't it?"

"But…what do I do if it fails?"

"What you always do," she said. She was still smirking.

"Ask you for another Cunning Plan?"

"NO, you idiot! Get yourself out of it using your Idiotic Gryff-"

"But that IS the Cunning Plan! What if that _fails_?"

"Then all hope is lost, Harry," she said solemnly. "I wish you luck." And she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

-------------------------

Voldemort was sitting on his throne, stroking an imaginary beard as he thought. This constant motion with his hands was doing horrible things to Lucius's attention span, as he kept staring at the long white fingers and wondering if the Very Evil Dark Lord knew that his chin was completely hairless or not.

"You really think that Draco is capable of this task?" he finally asked.

"Erm- yes, My Lord," Lucius replied. _You beardless weirdo,_ he thought to himself.

"Careful, Lucius. I can read your thoughts, remember? I did have a beard once…"

"Um, really, My Lord?"

"Yes. It was a very nice beard too, brown and well trimmed. I rather miss it, in case you were wondering."

"Well, yes, My Lord, I was-"

"I know," Voldemort said thoughtfully, and continued stroking his chin in a thoughtful silence.

Finally, just as Lucius was beginning to wonder if he was soon going to be following a Faceless Evil Dark Lord, Voldemort stopped stroking his chin and turned to him.

"Very well, Lucius. Send the instructions to your son, and I will put my part into action."

"Thank you, My Lord."

"Wait a moment, Lucius."

"Yes, My Lord?"

Voldemort smiled evilly. "I am a very smart Dark Lord, am I not?"

"Oh yes, My Lord."

"I always find a way out of everything, don't I, even death?"

"Indeed, My Lord."

Voldemort stood up and walked towards him. "Well, then. You may recall that I never actually _said _that I would not fling you if I liked your Plan. Don't you?"

"Erm, yes, My Lord," Lucius said, beginning to tremble.

And with a Very Evil Smile, the Very Evil Dark Lord picked up his Very Scared Servant and flung him against the wall.


	2. PART II

_Draco,_

_I think that the Dark Lord wants you to, um, do something to help him defeat the Boy Who Lived, but I'm not entirely sure, as I've taken a very grievous injury to the head. So… you should probably do something. Soon._

_Lucius Malfoy_

Draco put down the paper and sighed. _This is probably Father's way of trying to get me to take my own initiative as a Death Eater, _he thought. _Great. Now I need to come up with a plan. And a cunning one at that. Yes, that sounds good, a Cunning Plan._

He thought long and hard. He wanted his plan to involve not only Potter's death but his humiliation. After all, his life goal since entering Hogwarts had been to make the boy suffer, had it not? _Yes. Potter must suffer._

Harry had tried everything that he could think of to come up with a Cunning Plan on his own. Unfortunately, he had no real experience with the things, since Hermione Who Knows Everything had always been there to help him.

He tried eating gillyweed, but then he couldn't breathe and had to go jump in the lake. He tried taking a bath in the Prefect's bathroom, which had really helped him think during the Triwizard Tournament, but he still could not think of a Plan. He even tried doing nothing, because that was usually what got him anywhere in the first place, but even that didn't help. So he wandered the halls aimlessly, sulking.

It was then that he ran into Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been plotting ever since he had received his father's letter. He had decided that his best bet was to try to win Potter's trust and kidnap him. He had no idea how he would accomplish this, especially because Potter was very well protected nowadays, but he would give it the old Malfoy try.

Thus, when he ran into the Boy Who Lived wandering the hallways, he grinned to himself and decided to put Phase 1 of his Cunning Plan into action.

"Potter," he said in greeting. Then he stopped, for he had suddenly realized that he had no idea how to carry on a conversation with the boy in front of him. Steeling himself, he continued, "So, um, nice weather we are having, isn't it?"

Harry blinked. "Um, Malfoy, actually, it just so happens to be _raining_."

"Is it really? Well, I like rain. Don't you?"

Harry brightened a little bit. After all, it didn't seem like his rival was looking for a fight. This fact should have made him suspicious, but his inner Gryffindor said _hey, why not give the guy a chance?_

"Yeah, kind of," he replied. "Although just now it's reminding me of the fact that there is a Very Evil Dark Lord out there who wants to kill me and is probably plotting my death right at this moment."

Draco knew an opening when he saw one. Jumping on it, he said, "See, Harry, that is exactly what I've been hoping to talk to you about. I'm afraid that the Dark Lord is plotting to kill me, too."

Harry, being the trusting Gryffindor that he was, believed him. "Oh no, Draco, that's horrible! Did your dad do something wrong?"

Draco hung his head. He looked every inch the Repentant Death Eater, and he knew it. He smirked to himself before answering. "No, Harry, it is I who has failed. You see, I was hesitant to take the Dark Mark," and so saying he rolled up his sleeve to reveal it, "and the Dark Lord knew it. He is going to kill me, Harry, I can tell. Maybe not now, but soon." He looked up at Harry earnestly. "Will you help me, Harry?"

When Harry's face immediately filled with pity, Draco gave himself a mental pat on the back._ I'll surpass my father in the Death Eater ranks in no time at this rate, _he thought happily. Now he just needed to figure out to how to implement Phase 2.

-----------------

Lucius Malfoy was cowering again. He seemed to be doing rather a lot of that lately, he realized with a scowl. But he did not have any time to contemplate this, because Voldemort was in a Very Foul Mood again, only this time it was directed solely at Lucius himself, who was reminded very strongly of his Master's last Foul Mood by the large cut on his head.

Although, perhaps "reminded" is not quite the right word, as Lucius had very little memory of the incident, thanks to said cut and the concussion that had come with it.

"LUCIUS!" Lucius trembled. "LUCIUS, GET YOUR POMPOUS, COWARDLY MALFOY ASS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"

Head bowed, Lucius scurried to the throne room.

"Lucius," Voldemort repeated, only this time it came out as a very dark and silky purr. Lucius's head snapped up in surprise, and the sight that greeted him caused him to physically recoil.

The Very Evil Dark Lord had done Something Very Strange to his face.

Lucius stared at him for awhile in silence, until finally Voldemort sighed. "Lucius, honestly, you _must_ learn some Occlumency. I am growing very tired of reading your thoughts."

Lucius bit his lip, and finally decided that he had nothing to lose. _He is probably reading my mind right now as I think it,_ he thought wearily.

The Very Evil Dark Lord gave a Very Evil Snort, or as evil of a snort as he could give while choking with laughter. "Yes, Lucius, I have indeed read it already, but I want to hear you _say _it."

"Well then, My Lord. I was simply wondering whether that is marker on your face or not."

Voldemort leered at him. "Yes, Lucius, it is. And do you know why I have marker on my face?"

Lucius could not imagine why a Very Evil Dark Lord would want to put marker on his Very Evil Face, unless it was a Very Evil Marker.

This time, Voldemort actually _smiled_, and in doing so revealed a few spots around his mouth which he had apparently missed with the marker. Lucius recoiled again at the sight.

"I have a beard again," the Very Evil Dark Lord said in a dreamy voice. He stroked it absently. "And do you know who I have to thank for that?"

Lucius suddenly felt hopeful. "Me, My Lord?" he asked hopefully.

Voldemort smiled again. "Very good, Lucius. I knew you could use that brain of yours, despite your pretty blond hair. And I shall reward you accordingly." He thought for a moment, and seemed to come to a decision. "I shall not fling you for at least one day. If you keep coming up with ideas such as these, though, your reward may last longer."

Lucius left the room, his head filled with fleeting dreams of power and money. He left behind a cackling Very Evil Dark Lord, who immediately took out a brown marker and a mirror from his robe and proceeded to fix his beard.


	3. PART III

It was raining again, and Harry was depressed. "I have no Cunning Plan!" he wailed to nobody in particular.

Draco Malfoy, who, in a rather fantastic coincidence, happened to be just coming around the corner, heard him, and a light bulb went off in his head. _That's it, _he thought. _All this time I've been looking for way to implement Phase 2, and it's right in front of me._

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked, giving himself a pat on the back for being so subtle. "What do you need a cunning plan for?"

Harry turned in surprise, prepared to defend himself, but when he saw Draco his stance softened. "I need a way to defeat Voldemort. And it can't just be any old cunning plan, Draco." He turned back towards the wall he had been angsting at before his old rival's arrival. "No, it has to be a Cunning Plan. And it has to _work_ this time."

"Oh, happy day," Draco said to himself. He hadn't realized that he had said it out loud until Harry turned with a confused look on his face.

"_What _did you say?"

"Oh, um," Draco said, stalling. "I said, 'what a crappy way to spend the day', you know, talking to walls and trying to figure out a Cunning Plan, and such." He grimaced inwardly, knowing he wasn't making much sense. _I really need to stop accidentally speaking aloud, _he thought.

Harry still looked confused, but then he sighed and seemed to accept Draco's answer. He turned back to his new favorite wall again, and spoke. "I've tried everything, Draco. I tried asking Hermione Who Knows Everything, I tried gillyweed…" he made a face. "I even tried talking to Dobby, though Merlin knows why I thought he would be able to do anything for me other than feed me." He paused. "Although, come to think of it, I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't try to 'save' me again, because that didn't end too well last time…"

At the mention of his former House Elf, Draco had to physically restrain himself from hurting Harry. This involved a lot of very strange hand motion, in which his left hand reached for Harry, and his right tried to pull it back. His feet fought each other too, one of them stepping forward as the other stepped back. He ended up practically doing the splits, and he froze mid-grunt when Harry turned to look at him.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

Draco finally got his body under control and straightened up. "Yes, Harry, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Do you always think like that?"

"Um, no, actually. Just when I'm trying to think of a Cunning Plan."

Harry's face brightened so much that Draco had to fight himself to keep from looking away. It was like looking into the sun, but he was a Malfoy, so he gritted his teeth and bore it.

"Oh! Are you going to help me?" Harry asked in surprise. "I thought that, you know, because you're a Slytherin and all, and because we used to be archenemies, you'd just want my help without giving me anything in return."

"Times have changed, Harry," Draco said gravely, trying to make up for his earlier antics. "Times change pretty fast when there is a Very Evil Dark Lord out there plotting your death."

"I know," Harry said, with the air of someone who has fought said Very Evil Dark Lord multiple times and gotten nowhere, which in fact he had.

-----------------

Lucius was in trouble. Voldemort had called all the Death Eaters to his throne room so that Lucius could tell them all about his Plan. It was supposed to be his chance to show off as the Dark Lord's Right Hand Man, and lord it over them all that Voldemort valued and respected him enough to trust him with his Plans. The only problem was that he could not for the life of him remember what the Plan was about. All he knew was that it involved his son in some way, and of course the Boy Who Lived as well. _Oh well,_ he thought, _I'm not cowering this time. That's something, at_ _least._

He coughed nervously as everyone stared at him. "Erm," he began, in a voice that was definitely not befitting of a Malfoy. "The Dark Lord's new beard- I mean, Plan, goes like this. Um, my son will, I think, capture Harry Potter, and then bring him back to us. And then we will kill him."

He knew there was more, but as he was cut off by the Death Eater's cheers, he looked at his Master, who nodded his approval. He wanted very much to wonder if he had indeed remembered correctly, but he was afraid that the Very Evil Dark Lord would read his mind again.

He was saved from having to say anything more when Voldemort suddenly roared, "Everybody out! Now! Or I will fling you harder than I have ever flung anyone before!"

And before he knew what was happening, the Dark Lord had grabbed him by the arm and, sticking his marker-covered face into his Servant's, whispered, "Not you, Lucius. We need to talk."

Lucius shuddered at the words. His wife had said the exact same thing before every argument they had ever had, and also before she had announced that she was leaving him. Thus, he had a very bad association with the words "we need to talk", which had come to mean "I'm going to accuse you of everything that is really my fault and not let you get a word in edgewise". His definition was about to get very interestingly revised, however.

"I am proud of you, Lucius," was the first thing that came out of Voldemort's mouth. This startled Lucius so much that he forgot entirely about the Dark Lord's beard- but only for moment.

Voldemort smiled. "You have learned well, Lucius. I am very glad that you did not tell them about the Veil."

_The Veil? _Lucius thought._ He must be talking about the Veil of Mysteries, but what does that have to do with anything? _

Voldemort frowned. "Don't you remember the Veil, Lucius?" he asked. "It is a very integral part of your Plan, along with the Very Slippery Substance. Speaking of which, I am afraid that the _Lubricus _charm is not going to work. It simply does not produce enough for anything other than body orifices."

Lucius thought that he had never been more confused in his life. He also really, _really _did not want to think about what "orifices" the Very Evil Dark Lord had used the _Lubricus_ charm on.

The Very Evil Dark Lord came closer to him, his Evil Smile growing with every step that he took. "You don't remember any of it, do you? Well, that is rather unfortunate. What happened, Lucius, did one of your memory charms backfire?"

Lucius coughed. "No, My Lord." He tried very hard not to think, _it's all your fault, damn it, because you threw me against the wall _but he was not successful.

Voldemort came even closer. His Evil Smile was even more intimidating at this distance, and Lucius had to fight his feet to keep them from running away. When the Dark Lord was about a foot away, he reached out with one long white finger and stroked Lucius's cheek.

"Well," he purred. "It looks like I will have to pull off this Plan on my own. And as for you…" Lucius shuddered. This could not be good. "Looks like I will have to rescind your reward, Mr. Malfoy."

And with that, he picked up his Trembling Servant and flung him against the farthest wall with a very satisfying _thud._


	4. PART IV

Draco needed to think. And so he did what he always did, and he took a bath. Not just any bath, however. No, this was the patented Draco Malfoy Bath. He took it, as usual, in the Prefect's bathroom, and he filled the tub with every kind of bubble and scent that it had to offer. Then he added his Top Secret Key Ingredient that kept his skin soft and his hair shiny.

When he got out, spelling himself dry, he put on the clothes that he had picked out especially for this occasion. Then he went back to the Slytherin dungeons to check his appearance in the mirror a few more times, before starting off to search for Harry Potter.

Harry was plotting. He had decided to ignore the fact that he was just a young man with no real training except for his Idiotic Gryffindor Bravery and Unfailing Good Luck. He wasn't smarter or more cunning than anyone else, and in fact he could think of a good many people who were smarter and more cunning than him off the top of his head. But he didn't care. He had but one mission in life, and that was to defeat the Very Evil Dark Lord.

_I think I can, I think I can_, he thought furiously to himself, _I'm the Boy Who Lived, damn it. If I can't do it, no one can_.

It was at this extremely opportune moment that Draco entered the library, where Harry was bent over a very large pile of books. "Plotting, eh, Harry?" he asked.

Harry looked up, bewildered. "How did you know?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe because I have Magical Powers that allow me to enter the room just when you need me most and know exactly what you're doing?"

"Oh," Harry replied, as if that should've been obvious. "Well, anyway, your Magical Powers are correct. I _am_ plotting, and I do indeed need your advice."

Draco sat dwn next to him with a smile. "Just ask for it, Harry, and I shall give it."

Harry was momentarily overwhelmed by Draco's scent. "Did you take a bath in perfume?" he asked.

"Well, yes, actually. In a manner of speaking. I call it the Draco Malfoy Bath. Why," he asked, and his voice came out more nervously than he wanted it to, "does it bother you?" _IDIOT,_ he reprimanded himself. _Harry's opinion DOES NOT matter that much to you. It DOESN'T._

Harry was surprised to find that it didn't bother him. Despite the sheer intensity of the scent, it was actually rather nice. But he didn't want to say that to Draco, so he just shook his head and moved on.

"Well…the problem is that I really have no experience with Cunning Plans. Despite my extensive research-" he waved his hand, indicating the stack of Muggle novels in front of him- "all I've been able to figure out so far is that in situations as horribly cliché as these, in which Good fights Evil, or Light fights Dark, depending on your preferred adjective, either Good automatically vanquishes Evil simply on account of its Goodness, or one of them knows the other's Secret Weakness."

Draco gave a Condescending Snort. "Well, given that you've already faced Evil multiple times, I doubt that in this case your Goodness is going to do its Automatic Vanquishing anytime soon." He had a mental picture of Lord Voldemort melting like the Wicked Witch of the West, and had to fight to keep from laughing out loud.

Harry looked suspiciously at the twist of his mouth, but he didn't say anything. "Well, there was this interesting thing where he got burned whenever he touched me, but I'm afraid that's gone now." His shoulders slumped. "So all I've got left is to figure out what Voldemort's Secret Weakness is, but knowing him, he probably doesn't even have one."

A Very Small Devil appeared on Draco's shoulder. _Go on_, it whispered. _Say it. You know you want to._

He had just opened his mouth to speak when a Very Small Fangirl appeared on his other shoulder. _Don't do it, Draco!_ it shrieked in a very fangirly way. _You two are meant for each other! How are you supposed to fall in love and have hot monkey sex if you send him to his death?_

"WHAT!" He snarled. Harry jumped, and he realized that he'd spoken out loud again. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "Hold on, Harry. I'm busy having an argument with my Devil and my…um…well, I'm arguing with myself mentally. Be with you in a moment."

Harry nodded, but he still looked extremely confused.

_Get away from me,_ he thought as hard as he could at the Very Small Fangirl. _What do you think you're on about, anyway, about us being meant for each other?_

_There's a thin line between love and hate! _she quoted emphatically.

_Yeah, like there's a thin line between me being angry and me CRUSHING YOU TO DEATH! _he shouted in his head. She covered her ears.

_Just don't forget, Draco. You may think that the opposite of love is hate, but you're wrong. The opposite of hate is APATHY, Draco. You already have strong feelings for Harry. You never know where they may lead._

"I do NOT have strong feelings for Harry, you little bitch!" Draco shouted at the top of his lungs. Harry nearly hit the ceiling.

When he landed, he looked dazed. "Erm," he said, "I think I'm going to forget that you just said that and go back to trying to find Voldemort's Secret Weakness."

Draco blinked at the spot where the Very Small Fangirl had been just a moment ago. _Little bitch,_ he thought viciously.

_My thoughts exactly,_ said the Very Small Devil from his other shoulder, and it was Draco's turn to jump in shock. _Ow. Please don't EVER jump like that again, it does horrible things to my digestion. As I was SAYING…_

And with that Draco remembered what he had intended to say to Harry in the first place before the Fangirl on his shoulder had interrupted him. _Right. On to Phase 2_, he thought, turning towards Harry.

"Harry," he said, with a Very Evil Smile Pretending to Be Nice but Failing Utterly. "You want to know what Voldemort's Secret Weakness is? Why didn't you ask me before?"

---------------------

Two Death Eaters were coming down the hall towards the place where Lucius was sitting, moping and holding his aching head. They looked strangely similar, and he couldn't figure out why. Then they got closer, and he realized that this was because there were two Goyles standing in front of him.

"Hello, Lucius," the Goyle on the left greeted him. Lucius stared at the other one, whose mouth had moved as the first Goyle spoke, but only one set of words had reached his ears.

"Hello, Goyle and Goyle," Lucius said faintly. _Is the Dark Lord building a clone army?_ he wondered vaguely.

Goyle Two looked confused. "Um, Lucius, my son is still at Hogwarts."

Lucius nodded, and, with a wave of his hand, continued, "I know, Goyles, I know. I was referring to the fact that there are two of you."

"But there's only_one_ of me," Goyle One protested.

"Well, yes, but then there is Goyle Two standing over there and leering at me…"

"Goyle Two? Lucius, what are you talking about? There is only one Goyle standing in front of you."

Lucius sneered. "And I used to think that you were smarter than your son. I guess I was wrong." He tried to stand up and walk away, but he was struck by such a severe bout of dizziness that he had to sit down again.

If he had been able to see clearly, he would have seen the realization dawn on Goyle's face. It was soon replaced by a sneer, but Lucius didn't see that either, as he was too busy waiting for the hallway to stop moving around him. He could, however, hear it in Goyle's voice when he spoke.

"I think someone's been flung against the wall too many times, Lucius."

"Shut up," Lucius muttered miserably. He tried banging his head against the wall behind him to make the dizziness go away, but when he looked up afterward, there were four Goyles instead of two, and he realized belatedly that banging his head i again /i was probably not the smartest idea in the world.

"Hey, Lucius, I think that your eyes might be permanently crossed now," came Goyle's voice from somewhere above him.

"Piss off," Lucius spat, and he made his way unsteadily down the hall.


	5. PART V

Lucius wove his way around the Dark Lord's Very Secret Hiding Place for a while, trying to think and failing. He discovered soon enough that being cross eyed lead quite naturally to bumping into things. In the hallways this did not present too much of a problem, since the only thing he could bump into was the wall, but one particularly misplaced move brought him into a room he had never seen before.

What he could see of the room consisted mostly of walls and cabinets. The cabinets stood at about his height, and he made his wavering way towards the nearest one to examine its contents. But despite the fact that the cabinet was less than three feet away, he could not complete the journey.

With a resounding crash of breaking glass and splintering wood, he tripped on absolutely nothing and fell face first into the cabinet. The door fell open, revealing the source of the sound of breaking glass as bottles full of amber liquid dropped to the floor. One of them had been broken by his fall, and another came apart as it hit the floor, but most of them remained relatively intact.

Lucius reached out with a shaking hand, cutting one of his fingers on the broken glass in the process, and submerged it in the spilled liquid. He raised it, dripping, to his face, and took a lick, tasting alcohol and blood.

The alcohol went straight to his already dizzy head, and the room blurred even more than he had thought was possible. For some reason he found this inexplicably funny, and he began to giggle. It came out high and shrill, and he paused for a moment to wonder _do I always laugh like this?_ before collapsing into giggles again.

When the giggles finally stopped, his vision cleared slightly, allowing him to make out the cabinets around him. It occurred to him that there seemed to be twice as many as there had been when he had first entered the room, and he had just begun to contemplate this when eight Pissed Off Dark Lords came in and found him.

They stared at him for a second, sitting in the midst of broken glass and a pool of alcohol and giggling hysterically. _How did all eight of them fit through the door? _he wondered, before his drunken and banged up brain informed him that he was probably in trouble.

Then all of them smiled identical Very Evil Smiles, and greeted him in unison. "Why, Lucius, I was just looking for you."

"R-r-ealllly, My Lordssshh? Is you ready ta start build-n-ning yer cloned smarmy?" he drooled through lips that suddenly felt huge and clumsy.

"No, Lucius. We are going shopping."

---------------------

"Draco, I don't think this is going to work," Harry called from inside the dressing room. "I don't look funny, I just look stupid."

Draco snorted. "Believe me, Potter, you in drag has got to be the funniest thing I could ever imagine. Do you want to defeat the Dark Lord or not?"

"Yes, obviously. That's why I asked for your help in the first place. But now it seems less and less likely that Voldemort is going to take a look at me and die laughing. Honestly, Draco, I think you'd agree if you knew what I look like right now…"

"I promise you, Harry, it's going to work. Laughter is the Dark Lord's kryptonite."

Harry poked his head through the curtain, hair even more messy than usual from pulling on multiple sets of clothing and face full of surprise. "Draco…did you just quote a Muggle comic?"

"Absolutely not," he denied viciously, shaking his head. "Let me see how that combination looks on you," he added in an attempt to change the subject.

Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't press the matter. "Alright, but I warned you. I look really, really stupid."

"Just come out here where I can see you, okay? Stop being so stubborn."

"It's part of my Gryffindor charm," Harry protested, but he pulled aside the curtain and stepped out.

Draco's jaw dropped. When he had taken Harry to the Hogsmeade costume shop and picked out the leather corset, skirt, and boots combination, he had thought that the sight of Harry in them would make him laugh hysterically. The sudden rerouting of all the blood in his body to his groin was certainly unexpected.

"Merlin, you're hot," he whispered.

Harry had caught a flash of fire in his ex-rival's eyes, and the husky quality of his voice caused a burst of interest and arousal to stir within him.

"What did you say?" he whispered back.

_Bloody hell, did I just say that out loud? Again?_ Draco shook himself in an attempt to return to his normal, controlled manner. "I started to say, 'that's not funny', but I was cut off by the, erm, unfunniness of it."

"That's not what you said," Harry said softly, moving closer. Draco's eyes widened but he didn't say anything. "Besides, Draco, unfunniness isn't a real word."

Then he leaned forward and silenced any protests Draco might have voiced with a kiss.


	6. PART VI

When Draco regained his senses, his first thought was _Oh. Shit. What have I done?_ He looked down at Harry, who was grinning at him shyly, having just Snogged Him Senseless against the wall of the dressing room. He buried his nose in Draco's neck and whispered, "Bloody hell, Draco, if I'd known you were such a good kisser I'd have done this earlier."

Draco stiffened, and his hands came up to push Harry away, but he never got a chance because Harry suddenly stepped back, away from him.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he demanded. "First you tell me I'm hot, then you all but beg me to shag you, and now you're pushing me away?" When Draco didn't answer, he turned away. "Get out, I have to change."

He ended up buying the clothes anyway, because they were still part of his Cunning Plan, or at least that's what he told himself. Draco had left while he was changing, so he walked back to Hogwarts by himself, lost in thought.

Meanwhile, Draco was in the Slytherin dungeons, yelling at the Very Small Fangirl, who had reappeared on his shoulder.

"WILL YOU SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP?" he roared. "FOR THE LAST BLOODY TIME, I AM NOT BLOODY IN LOVE WITH HARRY BLOODY POTTER!"

She looked at him, and there was pity in her fangirly gaze. _I know you're in denial, Draco, but honestly, do you have to say 'bloody' so many times in one sentence?_

"YES, I BLOODY WELL DO!"

She sniffed. _Fine. I'm leaving. Let me know when you're not in denial anymore, okay?_

He just growled at her, and she disappeared. He was left alone in his room to sulk. _That's it,_ he thought. _Harry Potter must DIE._ He ignored the twinge in his heart as he thought that, and vehemently resumed putting together the rest of his Cunning Plan.

-------------------------

Lucius was being dragged along by his bleeding left hand. As he was still drunk and severely brain-damaged, he was not entirely sure where he was. He had barely registered that one of the eight Dark Lords had grabbed him, pulled him out of the room and down the hallway and out of the Very Secret Hiding Place. The rest of them had disappeared mysteriously, only to be replaced by shelves full of items that he did not recognize. He peered at them, and managed to make out the words "More Pleasure For Less!"

"Lubricant?" he managed to gasp out of as he was pulled past it. Voldemort did not slow his harrowing pace.

When they reached the end of the aisle, however, the Very Evil Dark Lord stopped. "Damn it," he cursed. "Don't they come in bigger sizes?"

When the words made it into the hazy fog of his brain, Lucius collapsed into giggles again. "V-Voldie… do you realize how _wrong_ that sounds?"

Voldemort shot him his patented Evil Dark Lord Death Glare. "Shut up, Lucius. Now help me find a big container of a Very Slippery Substance, or I won't just fling you, I'll fucking Avada Kedavra you right here in front of all the Muggles."

"Muggles?" Lucius inquired, now even more confused than before. "Voldie, where in the bloody hell are we?"

"In a Muggle drugstore, Lucius," he hissed. "Because _you_ came up with a Plan that involves huge amounts of a Very Slippery Substance which apparently cannot be made by any spell."

"So why didn't you just brew some?"

"Because there hasn't been an even vaguely competent Potions expert among the Death Eaters since Snape turned traitor, that's why. Now find me something that will work!"

Giggling, Lucius decided that the best way to find the slipperiest substance in the store was to upend every container he could get his hands on. When one of them caused Voldemort to fall onto his back, legs flailing, he declared the mission accomplished, and held the container of olive oil aloft in his victory.


	7. PART VII

A few days later, Harry found Draco sitting in the library doing his homework. The Slytherin acknowledged him with the briefest of nods, and Harry's heart sank even farther than it had since the rejection in the dressing room.

Draco sighed at the dejected expression on Harry's face, and then, organizing the work in front of him, tried to look professional. "I have been thinking, Harry, and I have decided that no matter what has happened between us, it is still in my best interest to help deal with your Cunning Plan." He grimaced inwardly; the line sounded as rehearsed as it was.

Harry's expression hardened. "Don't pull that professional, hardhearted shit with me, Draco. I've known you too long."

Draco's mask dropped, and pure anger filled his face. "Fine. Frankly, Harry, I don't give a flying fuck about you, but I want He Who Must Not Be Named dead, so I'm willing to help you."

Harry was hurt by this, but he hid it and sat down at the table.

------------------

Lucius watched as Voldemort poured the olive oil onto the floor and cast a Disillusionment charm on it, so that it was practically invisible. He set out the Veil of Mysteries and shifted it like someone who is just bought a new painting and is trying to find its most advantageous position on the wall. Finally he was done, and they sat down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally, the Dark Lord got impatient. "Lucius, is your son coming or what? Don't tell me he's lost his memory too…"

Lucius shifted nervously. "Well…"

Voldemort put his head in his hands. "Why am I cursed with stupid followers?" he wailed.

"Well, My Lord, the problem is this. I wrote to Draco after I had already forgotten the Plan, and so he doesn't know any of the details. It is my fault, My Lord." He bowed his head, but either he was not as good at pulling off the Repentant Death Eater Look as his son, or Voldemort was more resistant to it than Harry, for the next thing he knew he was being held in the air by the collar of his shirt.

"You will go find them NOW!" Voldemort snarled, before throwing him out the door.

----------------------

Draco was lying on his bed when there was a _thunk_ at his window. He sat up with a start and looked over to see his father's owl sitting on the other side of the glass and tapping at it impatiently. He ran over to let it in. It had a message in its beak.

He unrolled it quickly and read it.

_Bring Harry to the Very Secret Hiding Place as soon as you can or risk the Dark Lord's wrath,_ it read.

"Shit," Draco said aloud, and then he ran from the room.

-------------------------

He found Harry on his way back to the Gryffindor dormitory. The Boy Who Lived had his nose in a book, and he was making his way along the hallway very slowly. It was therefore relatively easy for Draco to catch him, but Draco was afraid that the rest of the plan was not going to be quite so easy.

"Harry," he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Go get the clothes. It's time to go face the Dark Lord."

"Shit!" Harry exclaimed, unknowingly echoing Draco's earlier words, and, dropping his book, he ran the rest of the way to his room.

When he came back, they made their way out of Hogwarts and through the grounds until they were past the wards. Then Draco grabbed Harry, and before Harry could wonder how the Slytherin knew how to Apparate, they had arrived at Voldemort's Very Secret Hiding Place.


	8. PART VIII

When Draco released him, Harry stood for a moment in shock. He had expected Voldemort's Very Secret Hiding Place to be forbidding and scary, but the building in front of them was a small, cheery house, painted blue and yellow and surrounded by a small white picket fence.

Draco almost smiled at the taken aback look on Harry's face, until he remembered what they were doing there. The almost-smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Harry," he said urgently, "you've got to change clothes. He's going to sense us any minute now."

Without thinking, Harry quickly unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down around his ankles. Draco froze.

Harry saw the stunned look on his face and frowned. "Turn around if it bothers you, Draco."

When his muscles started responding again, Draco tried to look as unaffected as he possibly could. He sniffed and stuck his nose in the air. "Harry, just because you're bloody gorgeous does NOT mean that…um, I mean—"

But he never got to finish his sentence because all of a sudden his breath had disappeared. Harry had come quite a bit closer without him noticing, and was now smiling at him in that shy, just-been-snogged way of his. It was the same smile that Draco had seen in the dressing room, and it made his entire body heat up and pay attention. The heat that was radiating off of Harry probably helped with that too.

"You _do_ like me," he said softly. Draco was trembling in anticipation of another kiss, but it never came. Instead, Harry turned away, picking up the leather skirt in a fluid motion and putting it on. When his shirt came off, Draco was practically drooling.

All of a sudden, the Very Small Fangirl appeared on Draco's shoulder. _Your dad is coming! _she shrieked. _As much as I would enjoy watching you two go at it, I don't particularly want to see either of you die that way, no matter how romantic it would be. Stop drooling and go save his life, so you can live happily ever after._

Draco snapped to attention just as his father came stumbling out the door of the Very Secret Hiding Place. In that moment, Draco decided that a Very Small Fangirl was a Very Nice Thing to Have Around.

Then he took a look at his father, and did a double take. "Father?" he whispered in disbelief.

Lucius's blond hair was the same as ever, even if it was a bit messier than usual, but his clothes were tattered and his eyes were crossed and wandering in their sockets. He had a large scar on the right side of his face, running from just above his eyebrow to his cheek bone, and in his hand he held what Draco recognized as a bottle of alcohol.

Draco approached him cautiously, in much the same way that one might approach a wild animal, even as his father made his wavering way towards him. As the distance between them got smaller, Draco realized that his father was giggling under his breath, which smelled strongly of alcohol.

"Oh, Draco, there you are!" Lucius said with a giggle. He reached out in what was probably meant to be a fatherly pat on the shoulder, but in his confusion he ended up smacking Draco across the face. It didn't hurt his skin, but it caused a deep radiating pain inside him and erased the warmth that Harry had produced in him only moments before.

Draco pushed him away, causing Lucius to stumble backwards and trip over his own feet, unsure whether he was more hurt that his father would hit him, or embarrassed that he would do such a thing in front of Harry. To his great surprise, he felt anger at the Very Evil Dark Lord for doing this to his father welling up in his chest. He felt tears enter his eyes, but he pushed them away. He looked for Harry, and found him standing a few feet away. He had expected to see pity on the Gryffindor's face, which would have made him lash out, but all he saw was grave understanding.

Seeing the sudden uncertainty fill his former rival's face, Harry reached out a hand to Draco, who hesitated for a moment before taking it. Together, they faced the door to their destinies and walked forward.


	9. PART IX

If the outside of the Very Secret Hiding Place was as cheery and bright as a house could possibly be, the inside was dark and scary enough to make up for it. Harry realized belatedly that the cheerful paint was probably meant to mask the darkness and rottenness of what was going on inside.

As soon as they opened the door, they were faced with a series of passages. Luckily, Draco seemed to know where he was going, and Harry held tight to his hand as they entered the hallway to their left.

What felt like over an hour later, but was probably only a few minutes, Harry saw a glow coming from the end of the passageway. Draco led him straight towards it, and before he knew it they had left the gloom of the hallway behind.

When his eyes adjusted to the brightness, Harry looked around. The room was empty, save for the Veil of Mysteries, which stood in the center. _Sirius, _Harry thought as a pang of grief shot through him.

Draco was staring at the empty room in confusion. "Where could he be?" he whispered to Harry.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Voldemort appeared in front of the Veil with a _pop_.

"Why, Harry, how kind of you to join us," he sneered. "Pardon the delay, I was otherwise occupied." He held up his right hand, and in it was a brown marker.

"Um, Master, not to be rude, but I do hope you realize that that is not your wand."

"Why yes, young Malfoy, I do realize that. It is, however, essential to my Plan, because how am I supposed to intimidate Harry Potter here if I don't have my beard?" He started to pull his mirror out of his robes, when he seemed to realize exactly who was in the room with him and, most importantly, what they were wearing.

He took in Harry's clothing, and how his hand was still clutching Draco's, and he began to laugh. He laughed so hard that Draco thought that his lie about laughter being the Dark Lord's weakness might actually be true and that his Master might actually fall over and die in front of them. But then he stopped, and when Harry looked at him, Draco could do nothing but hang his head in shame.

"You lied to me," Harry said softly. To Draco's surprise, there was absolutely no anger in his voice. Draco could only nod as a lump of shame formed in his throat.

A moment later, he felt fingers underneath his chin, lifting his face until his eyes locked with Harry's. _That _smile was on his face again, and when his mouth opened, the words that came out were "I forgive you."

Then Hero Harry replaced Sweet Emotional Harry, and he turned to face his longtime enemy and his parent's murderer.

"This is for my parents," he said, beginning to walk forward. "This is for Sirius, and for Cedric, and for all the others you've killed. But most of all," he continued, "this is for the good people whose lives you've ruined, including mine, and Draco's as well."

He pulled out his wand and opened his mouth to speak, but the words never left his mouth, for just then he took another step. His heeled foot slid, and he flailed for a moment before starting to fall. His left foot kicked out as his hands came up to catch himself, and his left boot went flying.

The last thing he saw before his head cracked against the floor and everything went black was Draco's face as the Slytherin caught the shoe, turned in a fluid motion towards the unsuspecting Dark Lord (whose attention was entirely focused on Harry), and plunged the sharp heel into his neck.


	10. PART X

"Harry. Harry, wake up."

"'S okay, you can keep it…" Harry mumbled, slowly leaving the dark recesses of unconsciousness.

"Harry, please." Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook him. "You've got to wake up. We need to leave."

"You really think Draco will like it this way?" Harry said, still caught in his dream. "I mean, he likes my skirt, but I really think the aluminum foil is a bit much…"

"Harry, you kinky little bastard, WAKE UP!"

Harry's eyes flew open. "Huh? Wha- where am I? Draco?"

"You're in Voldemort's Very Secret Hiding Place. Now come on, we've got to leave. The Death Eaters will be here any minute, and they'll want revenge. Get up."

"But… what happened?"

Draco turned to him with a smirk. "Well, when you conveniently decided to pass out after your Heroic Speech, I killed the Very Evil Dark Lord with your shoe."

Harry's jaw hit the floor. "My… my shoe?" he asked intelligently.

Draco sighed. "Yes, Harry, your shoe. Apparently that prophecy of yours was wrong." He hesitated a moment, and then the smirk returned. "You know what is prophetic, though?" he asked in an undertone, taking a step closer.

Harry gulped. "W-what?" he managed to gasp, feeling like a fish flailing on the end of a fisherman's line.

"Your dream," Draco whispered. "I hope you remember it, because I'm intrigued as to what you did with the aluminum foil…"

He leaned in, but just then there was a _pop_ and the Very Small Fangirl appeared in the space between them, screeching.

_The Death Eaters are coming! _she yelled.

Harry blinked at her. "Who are _you_?" he asked in surprise.

Draco, who was aiming a Former Death Eater Death Glare at the Very Small Fangirl, turned his gaze to stare at Harry. "You can _see_ her?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah, I guess so. You can see her too? I thought for a second that I was still dreaming, but I guess I'm not."

Draco frowned. "No, you're awake… but I don't understand why you can see her this time when you couldn't before."

Harry shrugged. "I guess it's one of those Unexplainable Things that authors like to write all the time in their stories. You know, like how you were able to kill Voldemort when the prophecy said I was the only one who could kill him…"

"Oh. Okay," Draco said, seemingly unconcerned by this. "Now, where were we?"

Harry blushed. "Well, I kind of hoped that you were about to kiss me…"

Draco smiled. Smiling felt strange to his facial muscles, but it also seemed like the normal thing to do in the situation, so he told his facial muscles to bugger off. He leaned in again, but this time the Very Small Fangirl actually put one hand on each of their faces and pushed. She pushed so hard that they both stumbled backwards, then stood there rubbing their bruised faces and staring at her.

_Didn't you hear me?_ she shrieked, waving her arms frantically. _I'm trying to save your lives here! THE DEATH EATERS ARE COMING!_

They stared at her, and then looked at each other. "Well, shit," they said in unison. "We should get out of here."

Draco held out his hand to Harry, and then they ran back down the passageway that they had come in through. The Very Small Fangirl followed, shaking her head.

Behind them, they could hear running footsteps mingled with yelled commands and the occasional high-pitched giggle. They made it past the wards unscathed, and before they could be awkward about it, Draco pulled Harry into his arms and closed his eyes, concentrating hard.

The next thing Harry knew, he was lying on the ground just outside Hogwarts, and there was a warm body on top of him. Draco's face suddenly appeared in front of his, grinning widely.

"Shall we make your dream come true?" he asked. "I happen to know an Extremely Unnecessary Spell which will come in very handy in this case, I think…"

He pointed his wand at Harry's clothing and, with a flick of the wrist and a whispered "_Aluminus"_, turned the skirt and corset into aluminum foil and proceeded to rip them off of him.

The Very Small Fangirl settled down with a smile and a Very Small Video Camera. She had saved their lives, and it was time for her Reward.

And they all lived Happily Ever After and had lots of Hot Kinky Monkey Sex.


End file.
